


Weird

by naasad



Category: Les Misérables - All Media Types
Genre: Ableism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Autistic Enjolras, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-01
Updated: 2018-12-01
Packaged: 2019-09-04 22:07:10
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 440
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16797973
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/naasad/pseuds/naasad
Summary: Le Cabuc runs his mouth at a meeting.





	Weird

**Author's Note:**

> I had to deal with several ableist pieces of shit today and I'm done with it, so.
> 
> I added the Enjolras/Feuilly tag because Enjolras' canon crush on Feuilly is amusing to me.

Le Cabuc laughed.

“What?” Enjolras demanded.

Le Cabuc snorted. “Nothing, nothing, just… I can’t believe you think you’re autistic.”

Grantaire raised an eyebrow, glancing between the two of them.

Enjolras sighed. “I think whether or not I’m autistic is for me and my doctor to decide.”

“Your therapist, you mean, and everyone knows therapists are full of shit.”

Joly’s grip tightened on his cane.

“And, anyway, you’re clearly not.” Le Cabuc waved a hand in the air. “I mean, come on, dude, you can drop the act with us. You’re well-spoken, you’re not obsessed with like, trains or anything, and you’re a goddamned adult. Just because your parents want you to be special doesn’t mean you are. You’re just weird, nothing else. Embrace the weird, man. Quit pretending.”

Enjolras blinked in shock.

Le Cabuc grinned and sat back, satisfied.

“I don’t talk when I’m home,” Enjolras said, wiping the grin right off his face, “not even to Combeferre. I’m not obsessed with trains because my special interest is politics and law. I have debilitating executive dysfunction. I can’t even remember what route I took from the apartment to here, I’m just assuming it was the same as always, and I don’t know what I’m feeling right now, but I know it’s not good. These fluorescents feel like they’re stabbing my brain, and I can hear everything going on in the room right now. I can’t tune out Courfeyrac’s soda fizzing or Grantaire’s pencil scratching the paper or every time a floorboard creaks. And my parents don’t know I’m autistic, because I was only diagnosed a year ago and they would be ashamed to have a disabled son. But none of this is your business. Just because my disability isn't visible to you doesn't mean it's not there.”

Le Cabuc snorted. “You’re making all that up.”

“No,” Combeferre and Courfeyrac chorused.

Grantaire stood, having had enough. “I think you should leave.”

Le Cabuc turned to him in shock.

“If you’re going to be an ableist piece of shit, that’s not really in keeping with Les Amis’ values.”

“Oh, please, like you’re not a dick.”

“No, but at least I’m a funny dick.”

The two stared each other down.

Bahorel cracked his knuckles.

Le Cabuc left.

“My honor doesn’t need protecting,” Enjolras said once he was out of earshot.

Grantaire bowed with a flourish. “You’re welcome.”

“At that point,” Feuilly said, “I would’ve kicked him out.”

Enjolras stared at him a moment, then, because it was Feuilly, nodded and went back to work.

Grantaire sighed and packed away his art supplies before settling back in his chair.

Feuilly glanced at him apologetically.


End file.
